Finders Keepers
by evilsregal
Summary: "What are you, four?" She snaps, reaching around him to try and grasp at the knife but he side steps her, and catches her around the waist. "What the f-" he hoists her up, and for some reason she notices the muscles of his arm tense around her ribs, his hand pressing in to her stomach - and what the fuck? "Put me down!" SLOWBURN OQ. TRIGGER WARNINGS, ANGST AND ZOMBIES - OH MY!
1. Chapter One

_**NOTES** : Scroll down._

 _ **DISCLAIMER** : Not mine._

 _ **TRIGGER WARNINGS** : Death, blood, gore, violence and suicidal thoughts._

* * *

 **Chapter One.**

* * *

It'd been nothing but sun for weeks. Nothing but sweat and dry skin and heat. It was the kind of weather that demanded cold popsicles and air conditioning, hours in the pool or Sundays at the beach. Weather like that had been far and few between in Maine, where all it ever was was overcast skies and rain. A sunny day in Storybrooke meant half-a-day in school, because no one wanted to be cooped up inside when the sun was out and shining. Not the students, not the teachers. But it'd been a year since she'd last seen her hometown, a year since the virus broke, a year since the world went to hell and all shit hit the fan. Regina woke to rain for the first time in weeks. It pounded heavily on the tin roof of the shed she'd stumbled across late last night. There were no windows, but she didn't need to see the sky to know that the rain that fell, fell hard. She wouldn't be leaving here for a while, not until it stopped, not unless she absolutely had too.

She didn't want to anyway.

Exhaustion had finally set in and she was tired. So, unbelievably, tired. Water leaked from somewhere, tickling the back of her neck as it trickled down the concrete floor. If she'd had a blanket, she'd have set it down to lie on overnight, but all she had was a bag and an oversized sweater, which she had to use to keep somewhat warm as she slept. Or, tried to sleep.

Regina hasn't slept properly for months, waking to the sounds of broken sticks and groaning, or to her own choking yelps. She lay on her side now, the sleeves of her sweater curled in her hands as she held them to her chest, shivering. A heavy thump outside startled her slightly, and her eyes settled on the door that she'd barricaded with a locker cabinet she'd pushed from the other side of the room. _'They can't get in,'_ she tells herself, closing her eyes and turning her head so her forehead can rest against the cold concrete beneath her. _'They can't get in.'_

She's not sure how long she'd lain like that, her eyes squeezed shut and her teeth chattering. Maybe she fell asleep, or just lost track of time, but the heavy rain turns in to a light trickle and somewhere in the distance, a bird sings. It must be clear outside. The bird wouldn't sing otherwise. So, reluctantly, Regina drags herself to her feet, secures her bag on her shoulder and rolls up the sleeves of her sweater. She can't stay here. As much as she'd like too, as much as she'd rather just die in this tin shed, she can't. She made a promise, one she intends to keep.

Pushing the cabinet away from the door is a lot harder than it was when she pushed it in front of the door yesterday. But she gets it to move with a little strain, enough for her to somewhat open the door and squeeze through the crack. It's wet and muddy outside, but the air is clearer than it has been in weeks and she inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and tilted her head back a little. She hasn't got time for this, she has to keep moving, but one second of peace amongst absolute chaos is too tempting to pass up.

If she tried, if she really tried, she could imagine the world as it once was. She could pretend that she were camping, that she'd just woken to a stoked fire and freshly caught fish, her fiancé in the midst of teaching their son all his secrets - secrets Regina never bothered to learn. Not because she didn't want to, because she would've spent hours listening to Daniel speak regardless of the topic he chose, but because she wasn't a camper by trade. That one time three years ago had been the first and only time she'd accompanied them, because that was their chance to bond and Regina loved her espresso machine too much to survive more than one weekend in the woods.

Oh, the irony.

Opening her eyes, Regina blinked and squinted, the sun blinding her momentarily. God, that was stupid. Bowing her head, she rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one of her hands, before she hoisted her backpack further up her shoulder, and she began to walk. It was quiet, but it was a calm kind of quiet. With the slight breeze rustling the leaves she pushed aside and the sound of that morning bird chirping, her day started well. She could only hope it ended so too.

She's light on her feet now, she notices. Easily avoiding branches she knows will snap underfoot, gently pushing aside bushes that block her path. Even her breath comes quietly, only the rise and fall of her chest to tell her that yes, she is alive. Go figure. Head down, Regina walked, following a trail that she could barely see. It'd been months since anyone walked this path, that much was obvious. But there were breaks off to the side, and it wasn't hard for her to figure out that a fair few of them had wandered by recently. The site had her pausing above a particular mark in the dirt, and she stared down at it. They had been so close to her, so very close. The storm had masked any sounds she may have made in her sleep - Regina had always been a light sleeper, but she didn't have anyone as of late to confirm that she still was. Her dreams were more nightmares now, and she'd always woken with a sore throat and a racing heart. But if it weren't for that storm, if it weren't for the thunder and the rain, she may not have woken this morning at all.

Moving on, Regina left the mark in the dirt behind, as well as the shed she'd called home for the last three days.

 _"Mama?" She smiles, small and subtle as footsteps race towards her; little footsteps from the little feet of a little boy, and she braces herself against the kitchen counter. Palms up against the edge, she lets out a loud 'oof' as a small body crashes in to her legs, and she looks down. "Mama, I founded you!" Eyes widening, Regina turned in his little arms and crouched, letting his arms wrap around her neck, and she bopped him on the nose. "You did find me, aren't you clever?" Her grins at her toothily, and her heart positively melts. It amazes her, and it angers her, and it confuses her like nothing else, how someone could possibly abandoned such a sweet child. He is positively adorable, with his floppy brown hair and his bright hazel green eyes, two front teeth missing and a third by the right corner of his lip. He's been her son for two years now, and she's been absolutely in love with him just as long._

 _Long legs appear in the corner of her eyes and she looks up, smiling at her soon to be husband, before she rises to her feet, their son's legs wrapping around her waist as she sits him on her hip. He's getting far too big for this, but she dreads the day that he's too big to lift, or that he's too embarrassed to be carried by his mother. "I told him you were in here but he didn't believe me - he had to go through the whole house." Laughing, Regina glanced down at his grinning face as he played with her hair. She bounced him on her hip a little, revelling in the squeal of 'Mama, no!' that he shouted in her ear before erupting in to laughter, and she swooped in to sloppily kiss his cheek. Hands on her hips drew her closer, and she leaned back in to Daniel's embrace, as he dove for the other side of Henry's face._

 _His peal of laughter echoes in her head, but it changes, it morphs, and suddenly there's no sunlit kitchen, no smiling little boy and not comforting embrace - there's darkness, and there's screaming, and there's blood and..._

Breaking from her reverie, Regina blinked and gasped, stumbled back in to a tree as she comes back to reality - and just in time too. Just a few feet ahead, staring at her with a broken jaw and what looks like half it's intestines dragging in the dirt, stands one of Them. She doesn't know what to call Them. Do they even have names? Zombie's are too, - they don't feel real when she calls them that. Zombies are reserved for movies and television, for comic books and best selling novels. These... things - they don't deserve to be fantasised. They're real. And they're dangerous. She fumbles with the knife attached to her hip, knowing that the gun secured around her thigh will take too long to pull and it's getting closer, so very close - she can hear the sounds it makes in it's throat, can smell it's rotting flesh and she gags, wraps her hand around the handle and tugs. It catches, she panics, she tugs again as her eyes, wide with fear, flicker from left to right and back again. There's another one in the distance, slowly making it's way towards her and it's friend, and she can hear the slow drag of feet just beyond - more of them. Gaze drawn back to the first, Regina's heart pounds in her chest and she lunges forward with gritted teeth, just as she manages to pull her knife from it's sheath and embeds it in the poor fuckers head. It's hands come up to her arms, fall heavily on her elbows and she falls forward, lands right on top of it as the knife digs in further and blood spurts from the wound, splattering over her face. Looking up, she panics again as the second is closer, much closer than she thought, and there's not just one behind it, but a whole herd. _'Fuck, fuck, fuck -'_ she thinks as she tries to pull her knife from the officially dead undead's head, but it's stuck in there quite nicely, and Regina hasn't eaten anything more than two questionable pieces of bread and half a tin of dog food over the last four days. She sits up, straddles a rotten chest and pulls with as much strength as she possibly can, rearing back as another hungry mouth lunges toward her. Leaving the knife in the skull it'd firmly embedded itself in, she fell back on her hands and tried to crawl backwards.

She's going to die.

She can feel it in her bones.

This is it, this is the moment she gives up. Her promise broken, her life over - it sounds so dramatic in her head but she's too slow, she really is, and she's not nearly as well fed as this bitch with fresh meat caught in it's open jaw. Is she not full? Do they even get full? Scrambling back, Regina inhales sharply and raises her hand, prepared to at least try and fend It off. It's groaning loudly now, practically screeching, and she grimaces at the sound, gags at it's breath - fuck, it's so close. Hand shaking, she locks her jaw and grits her teeth, tenses in preparation for what will no doubt be the most agonising pain she's ever experienced in her life.

It lunges forward.

It's mouth opens wide.

It's hands grasp at her arm.

An arrow appears between it's eyes.

 _"Did you hear that?" She sits up in bed, her head turned to the window and her hand resting on Daniel's shoulder. He groans, snorts, snores, and continues to sleep but Regina feels sick to her stomach. Something's wrong. She can feel it. Shaking him harder, she turned and leaned down, hissing at him through her teeth. "Daniel?!" He startles awake, mutters incoherently something that could be her name. "Wha' - Regine'a - tacos?" Rolling her eyes, Regina shook his shoulder again and tugs the blankets away from his back, exposing him to the cold air of their bedroom._

 _He groans, but pushes himself up and settles back on his knees, blinking sleepily at her and she knows he doesn't understand a single word she's said, but the sounds she'd heard outside were louder now, and he turns his head to stare at the window. She does the same. There's a dull light illuminating the sky. It flickers, and grows brighter, and she realises then that it's fire. Sharing a glance with her fiancé, she pushed the blankets off her own legs and slid from the bed, padding to the window and pulling aside the curtains. "I think - I think Town Hall is on fire..." She blinks._

 _"What?" His voice is rough from disuse, but he joins her at the window, his arms moving around her until she's locked inside and he presses his palms against the window sill, leaning forward a little to squint through the glass and she leans to the side, turns her head to look at him over her shoulder, and he looks down at her. They stare at each other for a moment, maybe two, before simultaneously turning their heads to once again peer out the window. "I should... I should probably go, shouldn't I?" She should. She's the Mayor's PA and a shoo-in for the next election. She makes to move, to slip under his arms but they tighten around her, and he steps forward. She's pressed against the window, her hips knocking against the sill and she grunts, questions. "Daniel?"_

 _"Shh," he mutters in her ear, frowning in a way she finds absolutely adorable and she smiles, but that smile falls as she realises then why he wants her to be quiet. Was that a scream? Her eyes fall to the street, the street lights making it difficult to see but somehow she manages. The old man from next door lies in the middle of the road, bent over something she can't quiet make out. Tilting to the side, she blinks and squints. "Is that..."_

 _"Ashley."_

 _Disgust rises in her throat and Regina stares in horror as a war veteran pushes the blonde to the ground, holds her down and starts to mouth at her neck. "Daniel, he -" she can't even finish speaking, she's horrified. That old man used to tell her son stories, sitting him on his lap as Regina picked apples from her tree. He was kind, he was harmless, and now he's attacking a young mother in the middle of the street - and they're watching. "We have to,"_

 _"Stay here."_

 _Turning, Regina watches as he moves to the closet and takes his old baseball bat from behind her coats. Something doesn't feel right, she reminds herself, and she follows him down the stairs. Quickly glancing over her shoulder, she hesitates. Henry's still asleep. Or, he should be. But what if he'd woken to the same sounds she had? He was just as light a sleeper as she... But Daniel's already opening their front door and she knows their son will be safe upstairs, that he won't ever come down them without her or his father to go with him - so she follows her fiancé out the door and down the path, wrapping her arms around her waist as the cold night air hits her._

"Hey!"

There's a heavy weight on her chest, something sticky running down her neck and she blinks, sees not the love of her life as he runs ahead of her, but the body of a dead woman with an arrow being pulled from it's head. Nose crinkling and lip curling, she made an odd gurgling sound as she used the flat of her palms to push it off her and she blinks up as a hand stretches out, wraps around her wrist and suddenly she's being hauled to her feet. Yelping, she stumbles back and wrenches her hand free of the stranger's grasp, holding it to her chest. "Who the hell are you?" she snaps.

He is... the first human being she's come across in weeks who hasn't tried to take a bite out of her. His eyes are the first thing she sees. They're blue, so very blue and they remind her, almost, of Daniel. But she shakes that thought away and looks him up and down quickly. He looks just as worse for wear as she feels, and he has a beard that looks like the home of the bird she'd heard this morning. "You're welcome," he grunts at her, scowling just as hard as she is, and she notices what could be an accent - but the herd she'd spotted is closer now, and she can hear them groaning. Instead of thanking him, she brushes past and moves to the first Thing she'd fell, reaches down and pulls once, twice, three times - no budge. "Fucking -" she starts, before stepping back as that same hand moves, easily tugs her knife free and she looks up to watch him turn and walk away. "Excuse me?!" she shouts, before realising that maybe that's not the best idea, and she moves to follow, snatching her bag from where she'd dropped it without realising. She has to run to catch up, his legs much longer than hers and he seems to be much more at home in these woods than she is - but she manages to get close enough to reach out for his arm. She grips his sleeve tightly and tugs with as much strength as she can muster, forcing him to stumble back and turn towards her. "That's my knife," she nods towards it in his hand, and he has the gall to laugh at her.

"Finders keepers."

"What are you, four?" She snaps, reaching around him to try and grasp at the knife but he side steps her, and catches her around the waist. "What the f-" he hoists her up, and for some reason she notices the muscles of his arm tense around her ribs, his hand pressing in to her stomach - and what the fuck? "Put me down!"

"No."

She struggles, kicks and flails and beats her hands in to his thigh. She could punch him in the groin if she really wanted to, but the fight is slowly disappearing and eventually she becomes limp in his arms as he carries her away, the sounds of the undead behind them drifting in to silence. Grinding her teeth, Regina stewed in her anger until his arms starts to slack and her feet drag in the dirt. Squirming again, she dug the toes of her shoes in to the ground and tried to pull away. "Let me go," she growled, stumbling back in surprise when he did as she asked and she fell back. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Me? What's wrong with you?!"

Bristling, Regina stood and brushed the dirt off her worn jodhpurs. Angrily, she swung her backpack from one shoulder to the other and scowled at him. "I had it under control." She is stubborn. She always has been. But she's never been one for those damsel in distress stories - if she'd wanted to die, he should've let her. But even if she hadn't, even if she'd somehow managed to muster the strength to push the bitch off her, she would've handled it herself. She doesn't need help. She doesn't want it.

"A simple thank you will suffice."

That... that cocky - she glared at him, her teeth grinding against each other and were her mother here, were things normal, she'd probably have been scolded for such an act. But mother isn't here and things aren't normal and she'd damn well grind her teeth if she damn well felt like it. Holding out her hand, Regina pursed her lips and cocked her hip to the side. "My knife," she demanded gently.

And he laughed.

"This isn't a knife. It won't save you."

"I've managed so far, haven't I? Just give it here - it's all I've got." She won't leave without it. She certainly won't let him keep it. That knife was Daniel's. It had been a part of his camping kit and she may have lost the tent, and the fishing lines, and the flare gun - but she hadn't lost the knife, and she refuses to let it out of her sight. "- please..." The very word tastes like salt on her tongue. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, and her jaw tenses further. She hates asking for things, just as she hates saying thank you. It makes her feel like she owes them, like she's in their debt, and for as long as she'd been with Daniel, she'd only ever asked him for something three times. She'd thanked him the same.

This man, this blonde haired blue eyed jerk of a man, smirks at her, and flips the knife over in his hand. The blade rests in his palm as he extends his arm, holds out the knife, and she snatches it quickly, breathing relief as she feels it's comforting presence before re-sheathing it on her hip. Satisfied, Regina pushed passed the thief - for that is what he was to her now, and stalks away. She groans when she realises he's following her. "Go away," she snaps, raising her hand and waving him off over her shoulder as she trots down an incline.

"I just saved your life, milady."

Her nose scrunches, and she looks at him over her shoulder, scoffing "Milady?" Who says things like that anymore? "I didn't need nor ask for your help so why don't you take your Britishness elsewhere?" And he laughs again. "My Britishness? Aren't you just a peach?" God, why is he still following her. Moving forward, she pushes a stray branch out of her way and waits for it to whack Mister Smart-ass in the face. But when the sound of it hits flesh and she turns to smirk over her shoulder, she finds him pushing the same branch away with his forearm. Smirk falling, Regina rolled her eyes and quickened her pace. He continued to follow her, until she turned on her heel and pushed him away with her hand. "Stop it," she snapped, but he just grinned.

"You're the first person I've seen alive in nearly a month."

"So?"

"So..." he drawls. "- don't you think we should, oh I don't know - stick together?"

She scoffs.

"I don't even know your name so no, I don't think we should _'stick together'_."

"Robin. My name's Robin."

Regina blinks, tilts her head at him and glances him up and down - again. She never would've pegged him as a Robin, but she can see it now. Looking up, she notices him smiling and she focuses on the dimples she can see despite his rather rustic beard. Were these any other circumstances, she might have found him somewhat appealing. But then she thinks of Daniel, and of Henry, and that ache in her chest starts anew. So she turns on her heel, and walks away from him.

He follows.

 _"Hey!" She stops at the gate and watches as Daniel moves forward, steps on to the side walk and then on to the road, bat held tightly in his hand. The old man pays him no mind. Maybe he didn't hear him - but Daniel can see blood running down Ashley's arm, Regina can see it from where she stands a few feet away. "Fredrickson!" Daniel snarls, tossing the bat up until he can grip the handle and it's raised a little higher, the perfect height for him to swing if need be and Regina steps forward, protestation on the tip of her tongue, but then her eyes meet Ashley's, her head turned to the side, and they're blank._

 _She's dead._

 _Bile rises in her throat and she stumbles back a step or two, looks from Ashley to Daniel to the old war veteran her father used to play poker with. Carl Fredrickson was a good man. He had been, until his wife died and he withdrew in to himself. It wasn't until Henry came along that she'd actually spoken with the man - this isn't right. Something's not right. "Daniel," she starts, but whatever she's going to say next comes out strangled, an almost choking sound tearing from her lips as the old man turns, snarls at Daniel and bears blood soaked teeth. His skin is pale, some of it bruises and his face is gaunt. He looks almost... dead._

 _"What the fuck?!" Daniel swears, and she knows something must be wrong if he's swearing because Daniel simply does not swear. Ever. He back tracks, holds out a hand as if to keep her back, until he's just in front of her and he's hand grasps her forearm. He tugs her behind him and she follows with ease, peering over his shoulder to watch with wide eyes as Carl sways and stumbles, drags his feet. But his pace is quickening and there's bits of flesh caught in his teeth. He groans incoherently, reaches out with broken fingers, and she thinks he looks like one of those creatures from the movies Daniel likes to watch. The ones that make her hide her face in his neck and leave nail marks in his arms._

 _"Daniel?" She tries, but then there's crying behind her and Regina turns to look over her shoulder. The front door is wide open and she can hear Henry calling out for her from the top of the stairs. "Get inside, Regina." She turns, hesitates, but eventually leaves Daniel behind to run towards the front door. The sound of their path gate banging knocking in to the hedges draws her attention and she spins, walks backwards before stopping completely, her eyes wide and a scream threatening to break in her throat. She watches as Daniel swings his bat. It slams in to Carl's head, knocks the old man to the side and completely unhinges his jaw - but he keeps moving, even with his jaw hanging off his face, and Regina watches as Daniel swings again, smashing in to Old Man Fredrickson's temple and blood rains. The veteran falls to the floor and twitches, before lying completely still and Regina stares. He's dead. He's actually dead. Her eyes rise to Daniel's, and he's staring back at her in just as much shock and horror as she stares at him, but then movement drags her eyes to just over his shoulder and she screams._

 _"Daniel!"_

He's still following her. She growls at him to _'stop it'_ , _'go away'_ , _'leave me alone!'_ but he continues to trail after her like a puppy it's mother. Her hands curl in to fists by her side and she falls silent. If he wants to follow her, fine. But she won't entertain him with conversation. "What's your name?" He asks her, and she grits her teeth. She won't even acknowledge him. Oh no. Not a single word more. He seems fine with that. Robin. He chooses to fill the silence with conversation of his own. "I'll be honest, I'm surprised you're alive. How long've you been alone?" Her knuckles turn white. "That long huh? Me too... Well, I'm not alone, alone. I'm looking for someone. He's about, three foot high, likes chocolate chip cookies and hide and seek - brown hair, brown eyes... his name's Roland." Her steps halt suddenly, and she stares ahead of her. He doesn't seem to notice, just walks on past and continues to talk. "My son. He's four - was with his mother in Boston but... they're not there. Don't suppose you've seen him?"

She's going to throw up, she thinks. Can feel bile churning in her stomach, her hand pressing hard against it in an effort to soothe the sudden drop. She doesn't see him, even though she stares right in to his eyes as he turns, confused at her sudden stop. "Hey, are you okay?"

No.

No, she's not.

Her mouth runs dry and she can feel her fisted hands start to shake. His son... He's looking for his son. Doesn't he know - doesn't he think... it's been a year. A whole since since the shit hit the fan and the world burned in hell. If he hasn't found him by now - why? Why would he do that? Why would he go looking for something he surely knows is no longer there? She couldn't - she couldn't imagine...

Except she can.

And her breath hitches in her throat.

 _"Mama, my legs hurt!" Her hand tightens in his, and she realises then that she's dragging him behind her. Heart in her throat, Regina turned quickly and scooped him up in to her arms. He is too big now. Just turned seven and far too heavy, but somehow she finds the strength to lift him in to her arms. She rests her hand on the back of his head and holds him to her chest. "I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry. Shhhh, it's okay. Just a little further, I promise. Just a little more." Turning, Regina carries him as they walk away from Storybrooke, away from their home, away from Daniel._

 _Daniel, who lies dead on their staircase, a bullet in his brain. They'd survived in that house for two weeks before it became too much. There wasn't any life left in town save for them, and They seemed to know that. Maybe they could sense it. Maybe they could smell it. But the door couldn't hold them back and Daniel had pressed his gun in to her hand as she held Henry behind her in his room. 'Stay safe,' he'd said. 'Promise me you'll stay safe.' She'd cried, and she'd tried to hold him back, but he'd just kissed her and smiled, muttered 'I love you' in to her hair before closing Henry's bedroom door and breaking the handle, locking them inside._

 _She could hear them. As they crashed through her home, as Daniel's second gun went off and off and off and off until there were no shots left. She heard him scream, heard him try to muffle his pain because she knew he knew she could hear him, Henry could hear him. Choking back a sob, Regina turned, fell to her knees and wrapped Henry in her arms. "Shhhh, baby, shhhhh. It's okay, it-i-it's okay. Come on, honey. Shhhhhh." His sobs wracked his little body as he clung to her, muffling his own cries in her shoulder but she knew, she knew they were too loud. She could hear movement on the stairs and if they all swarmed at their door, it would break. Looking around, she'd skimmed over every surface of his room, skipping the window but her eyes drew back - and she wiped tears away, gathered Henry in her arms and picked up the bag Daniel had pre-packed just days before. "We have to go, Henry. Come on, we're - we're gonna climb a tree." She tried to smile. She did. But he didn't seem to believe it. Unlatching his window, Regina pushed it open and licked her lips. There was a tree directly across from Henry's room, and looking down she could see one of Them disappear in to her living room. There were none in the streets - this was the only chance they'd have to get out. Swallowing, the sounds of banging on the door behind them startled her son and he cried out._

 _The banging got louder and louder and she inhaled deeply. Swinging her leg over the windowsill, Regina carefully set Henry down on the ground. He tried to hold on but she had to pry his hands away from her neck so she could move out and on to the roof above the patio. Reaching back inside, she slide her hands underneath his arms and Regina gently hoisted him through the window. He slid a little, but she held on to him with one arm as she pulled down the window with the other. Spreading her legs, Regina placed Henry between them and slid down the roof until they reached the end. A tree branch, conveniently placed, was just within reach and she was able to lift Henry up, help him move down until he reached the trunk of the tree before following. Her bag caught on several stray branches but they managed to get to the ground. Her heart was breaking, it felt torn in two but - she had to get Henry out. She had to keep him safe. Taking his hand in hers, she ran across the yard and through the gate, leading him down the sidewalk until she could veer off in to the woods._

 _She slowed once she was far enough in that she couldn't see the streets. Breath stuttering, Regina swallowed thickly and wiped away the tears in her eyes, before Henry's small voice caused her to turn and pick him up. She tried to carry him as she moved, whispering soothing words in his ear but he kept crying, he wouldn't stop. She licked her lips and kept going, thinking of Daniel and the promise he made her whisper in his ear before he left them. 'Stay safe,' he'd said. Lost in thought, grieving and mourning the loss she felt deep within her soul, Regina failed to notice the sounds of broken branches and footsteps dragging in the dirt. She didn't notice until it was too late. Until she'd been knocked to the ground, her son rolling out of her arms. She gasped, landing awkwardly on her arm and she cried out in pain. Rolling on to her back, she reached up with her hands and pushed against the monster's shoulders - Marco, she thought. Oh god, Marco. "Please," she gasped. "G-Get off!" She pushed him away from her, turned on her stomach and stretched for the gun sitting in the side pocket of the bag. She fumbled with the gun, grasped it by the barrel before she stood on shaking legs, turned it over and staggered around. Her arms rose, the gun in her hand trained on the old man she would greet every morning in Granny's Diner._

 _But her jaw fell open, her mouth hung agape and a scream froze in her throat. Marco, sprawled on the ground, had grasped Henry by the ankle and dragged him back. "Henry!" She finally managed to gasp, but it was so quiet, so very quiet. "Mama! Mama, help! Mama!" He screamed and it echoed in her head. She lifted the gun and pulled the trigger, but it was too late. Marco's teeth sunk in to her son's calf. "No!" She shrieked, the sound inhuman to her ears. She pulled the trigger. Again, and again, and again, and again. Over and over she shot him until he was a bloody mess. Henry was screaming, and Regina was no better. She fell to her knees beside him, gathering him in her arms and rocking back and forth, his name on her lips._

 _"Henry, no no no, Henry come on baby, shhhhhhh it's okay, you're okay - Henry, please..." She begged him to stay with her. Pleaded until she lost her voice. Not once did she let him go, even when he stilled in her arms and his body grew cold. She knew he would stir soon. That her little boy would be... different. That he would be one of Them - and for a while, she contemplated letting him take her. Her fiancé was dead. Her son, dead._

 _'Stay safe', he'd said._

 _Shaking, Regina hugged Henry to her chest and whispered 'I love you, my little prince,' in to his hair. And as he gurgled, as he stirred in her arms - she grasped Daniel's knife in her hand, and held the tip to his temple. Shaking, crying, feeling her heart break in to pieces - she gently pushed the knife in to his head and he stilled in her arms. "Henry..."_

"Regina."

Her voice sounded hollow, even to her. And he seemed to think so too, if the look he gave her was anything to go by. "I'm sorry?" He said, confused. And she blinked, looked him in the eye properly. Her voice cracked, but she managed to croak, "My name... It's Regina." She'd failed her son, she decided. She wouldn't let him fail his. Gathering herself, Regina strode past him and bumped his shoulder out of her way. Swallowing, she called over her shoulder. "I still don't like you."

* * *

 _ **NOTES** : So... It's been a while, I'm sorry. This got longer than I expected it too and I'm sorry for that particularly ending ( no I'm not ) but hey, if any of you have read my one-shot collection, you'll know that the one-shot titled **'Bad Blood'** comes from this universe. I decided to multi-chapter one of them, and this is the one I chose. It will be slow burn and chapter will not come quickly. I'm thinking once a month, to be honest. That is, if it's worth continuing? Let me know what you think via a review or a favourite - or you can message me on my Tumblr: **banditsass**. Xo._


	2. Chapter Two

_**Notes**. See below._

 _ **Disclaimer**. Not mine._

 _ **Triggers**. Excessive Coarse Language._

* * *

Chapter Two.

* * *

They walk in silence until nightfall. It's the only reprieve he's given her since he'd hauled her to her feet and followed her step-for-step. She is both grateful, and annoyed. Regina is of the opinion that she doesn't need to be coddled, or pitied. And there's no way that he could pity her, she hasn't told him anything beyond her name, but when she looks up and their eyes lock, there's something in the way he looks at her. It's as if he knows every detail of her life right up until the moment they met.

She hates it.

But she says nothing, too relieved for the peace and quiet that settled between them. How long it will last, she couldn't say. So she'd best take advantage of it until it fades.

Each step is heavy. She is exhausted. Well and truly spent, and every part of her body aches. The sun is setting and they'll have to make camp soon, but Regina wants to put as much distance between her and that tin shed as possible. And Robin follows. He doesn't complain. Not once. And she's not sure if that's a good thing or not. It should be, but she wonders just how far he'll go before he breaks. He can't possibly be so considerate and content. Not in this world. Not anymore.

They're together for the sake of being together. Because there's no one left alive for miles, and apparently company during the end of the world is necessary. Not that she would care. Regina was fine on her own. It was Robin who insisted on sticking it out together.

She hopes the silence makes him uncomfortable.

Discretely, Regina glanced over her shoulder, stray strands of hair falling in to her eyes as she watched him walk behind her, head down and hands grasping the straps of his pack with a white-knuckled grip. Her brow furrows, and she almost speaks, but he looks up then, schools the stoic look he'd thrown at the ground and flashes a too-wide grin. She scowls, turns sharply, and stalks off at a slightly faster pace then before he'd caught her staring at him.

Arrogant prick.

She's making assumptions based on a less than five minute first impression. Before this, she hated making decisions without all of the facts. It's why she worked for the Mayor's office, why she was preparing to run for the seat herself. Perhaps she should give him a chance, some credit. He did save her life… except she hadn't asked him to save her, she hadn't asked him to follow her, she hadn't asked him for anything.

Fuck him.

Angrily, perhaps irrationally so, Regina kicked at a rock and glared at it as it disappeared behind a bush. God, she was hungry. Really, really hungry. Her stomach growled. Regina swore. Robin laughed. Her eyes closed and she counted to ten.

She tripped.

"Oh, for fucks sake!"

Stumbling forward, Regina came to a complete standstill and her hands curled in to fists by her side. This was all Robin's fault. He'd thrown her off, completely unsettled her, and now she was making an idiot of herself in front of the only alive human being she's had contact with in over two months. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Are you okay?"

Brown eyes open and, despite herself, she laughs. It's high and long and she shakes her head from side to side as she turns around, and throws her arms out in exclamation. "Do I look okay to you?!" Her stomach growls again, and her jaw clenches as he simply… smiles. Does he ever stop smiling? It's ridiculously annoying and, if she didn't think she would absolutely break her hand, she'd punch him in the face. Maybe then that smile would fall, and she'd get to see the lack of optimism she'd glimpsed a moment ago.

"— you should really watch where you're going…"

Maybe she doesn't care about her hand anymore.

Maybe he deserves the right hook.

Regina's eyes narrow and she bares her teeth. He steps back, a crease forming between his brow as he raises his hands in surrender. But Regina is beyond reason now. They've been walking for hours, she hasn't eaten anything substantial for almost three days now, the sun had shown itself around noon and the heat had not improved her mood in the slightest, and on top of all of that, he has been trailing behind her not three steps back. "— I didn't ask for you to follow me around like a god damn puppy, okay? I didn't ask to join you on your ridiculous crusade across the country, I didn't ask for an end-of-the-fucking-world travel buddy, okay?! So, you know, if you could just shut the fu—" Her words are muffled as he lunges towards her, one hand covering her mouth and the other falling to her upper arm, and her eyes are wide for a moment before they narrow dangerously, and she glowers at him.

But he's not looking at her. His head is turned to her right, his left, but his eyes move behind him and it looks as if he's listening, as if he can hear something she can't, and Regina's chest heaves in unreasonable fury. She could use her own hands to remove his from her lips, but he's not paying attention to her, and he's the one who'd thrown himself at her, and he can blame himself when she opens her mouth and sinks her teeth in to his palm.

The yelp that tears from his throat is rather high-pitched for a man of his… stature, and she inwardly grins in victory as he pulls his hand away and takes a good three steps back. He holds his hand with the other, stares down at it and the marks in his flesh, before he looks up at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "You bit me!"

"Nice observation skills," Regina quipped, arms crossing over her chest as she stood before him, and glared.

"— are you fucking crazy?!"

…

"— maybe."

He continues to stare at her, holding his hand in a grip that looks almost as painful as the bite, and she almost rolls her eyes. It's not like she broke the skin, and she should be more horrified than he is now. She's the one who opened her mouth to the unwashed skin of a drifter, who probably hasn't bothered to take what opportunities arise to bathe, who smells like the god damn forest they're wandering through now, whose skin was covered in dirt, and grime, and dried blood and, oh god, that was a terrible idea… not that she'd ever admit to it. Instead, she simply moves one step towards him and revels in the half-step back he takes. Her arm rises, she points her finger at his chest, and she darts forward, poking him… hard.

"You interrupted me. You put your hand over my mouth. You didn't even fucking explain. So yes. I bit you. It was either that, or kick you in the balls so be fucking thankful, asshole."

They are inches apart now, Regina breathing heavily with exertion, Robin staring down at her in awe… or disgust. One of them. There's nothing but a slight breeze between the two until he steps aside, and lifts an arm. He points to somewhere behind them, at a diagonal angle. Not quite where they came from, but close enough. "— running water. I interrupted your unnecessary ranting because I thought I heard running water, but I couldn't be sure because of your bloody speech, princess."

 _"— princess."_

 _Slowly, she turns. Head first, then body. "What did you just call me?"_

 _The grin that he flashes is oddly attractive, and she's blinded for a moment as he leans forward, bows his head to look her in the eye, and her own narrow. "Princess. I called you princess." Regina's lips purse in defiance as he continues to talk, her ire growing with every word. "You're the Senator's daughter. You live in that big, white castle on Mifflin with the trimmed trees and the expensive car sitting in the drive-way. You're like the definition of a spoiled brat, Regina. So, I called you Princess. And I'm going to keep calling you Princess, because I like the way your cheeks go all red when you're angry."_

 _Speechless._

 _Her mouth opens, but no words come out, and she's left to gape at him in absolute… confliction. He's wrong, of course. Yes, she has money. And yes, her family name has some sway in town. But Regina had never cared much for that. For riches and status and power. He would know that… if he knew her at all._

 _And maybe he was flirting with her. Maybe she liked it. Maybe she wanted him to continue. Maybe, maybe, maybe… But Regina was as stubborn as they come, and she refused to let him get to her._

 _"— you're a jerk."_

 _When she turns, he laughs and crosses his arms over his chest, watching as she stalks away from him. Calling out, Daniel grins at the glare she throws over her shoulder. "You can admit you love me, Princess! I won't judge you for it!"_

 _"— don't call me that!"_

"— don't call me that."

Pushing past Robin, Regina swallows thickly and licks her lips, eyes turning to the sky in a bid to keep her eyes dry. She won't cry. She won't cry. She won't cry. Walking in the direction Robin had pointed out, it takes a moment for Robin to follow. In the past few hours alone, she's thought about Daniel more than she has over the past three months. It had hurt too much then, and it hurts just as much now. But now, there's a constant reminder of him tailing her every step. Pushing her in much the same way that Daniel had, all those years ago.

It makes her hate Robin all the more.

Every step is made in silence, interrupted only by the occasional grunt from Robin as he rubs at his palm, fingers running over the indents of Regina's teeth. The whining starts to irk her, but she only steels her jaw and carries on, turning when he tells her too only because he seems to have the hearing of a bat, and she can't hear shit apart from him, falling in to step with her.

He was right though, and that only earns a glower from her when he grins in satisfaction as they stumble across a stream. It's not particularly large, and though she would love a good body of water to actually clean up in, it's water nonetheless and she was running though. Robin too, if the way he crouches by the side and continuously dumps his cupped hands in is anything to go by. Regina is not nearly as desperate, despite the ache in her throat and the chapped lips. But she sits, cross-legged, and swings her pack in to her lap. Rooting around, she pulls her nearly empty bottle from the side pocket and twists the cap, immediately draining it of the clear water inside before she dipped it in to the stream just deep enough for it to fill without extra movement from her. Which is good, because she is absolutely exhausted and, now that she's sitting, Regina's not entirely sure she'll ever be able to get back up.

The bottle fills. The water's relatively clear, but not as much as she would like it to be, and her nose scrunches slightly in concern. She doesn't want to get sick. She'd like to avoid that for as long as possible, actually. But she's so thirsty, and the water is curbing some of the hunger, so she bites the metaphorical bullet, and downs a good third of the bottle. Her lip curls at a particular mouthful, the texture somewhat grainy with a small amount of dirt from the bottom of the stream. Her eyes drift, locking with Robin's own as he dumps a handful of water over his head, rubbing at the back of his neck with now cooled hands.

Her eyes roll.

They drink in silence.

For a long while, nothing happens. No conversation, no contact, nothing. There is no walking dead to wander past, no animal to catch for food. Just Regina, and Robin, and the stream. But it relaxes her a little, calms her down from the burning ball of rage she had been, to something slightly more agreeable. Not that Robin would notice. They haven't traded words since their altercation. And that's just fine with her.

And with him. Apparently.

Night finally falls, but the peace between them shatters.

"What are you doing?"

Looking up from where she's kneeling, Regina blinked at him owlishly before schooling her features and bowing her head. "It's getting dark, and I can already feel the cold. I'm starting a fire, is that okay with you?" It sounds like a genuine question. Like she is actually asking for his opinion, concerned about whether he is okay with a fire or not.

"No, actually. It's not."

Regina's eyes close, and she takes a moment to just breathe, before turning her head to look up at him. "Do you want to freeze?"

"Do you want to die?"

Frowning, Regina stared at him blankly. "— what?"

"How have you survived this long? Fire attracts the Biters."

Her brow rises. "— Biters?"

The look on his face only makes her feel like an idiot, and her dislike of him grows. "— well what do you call them?"

"— Them."

He laughs. "Them? That's what you call them? Just… Them?"

Regina stands then, head cocking to the side as she prepares to argue with him again. God, this is getting old. "Yes, Them. Giving them names, classifying them — it doesn't make them real. It makes them… unreal…"

"Unreal?"

She scowls. "You know what I mean! This isn't a movie, this is happening. Those… things, they're real people…"

"They're not people anymore, Regina."

"They were!" Daniel. Henry. They could have been one of Them. They could have died, and risen, and they would've roamed the Earth as monsters. They're not. She knows they're not. She buried her son herself. Sat at his grave for almost a week before she'd mustered the strength to move on. She didn't even have much to remind her of him.

 _"You can't take this, Regina."_

 _His voice is soft in her ear as he comes to stand behind her, arms winding around her waist as she packs the bag he'd tossed her way. His chin rests on her shoulder and she leans back, biting her lip as she embraces the comfort he offers. Henry sleeps on the bed, and her eyes fixate on their son as she thumbs the photo album in her hand. "— Daniel, please…"_

 _"Regina."_

 _Her eyes close. Drawing the album to her chest, Regina tilts her head slightly to the side as Daniel presses a kiss to her jaw. "Regina," he repeats, and she nods quickly, clearing her throat as she opens her eyes and opens the album. There are pages and pages of photos. All of Henry. His baby book. Every first, every moment, every smile. Everything, documented. There are two photo's that she gently tugs from their place. The very first; the three of them, the day they brought Henry home. He was two, shy, and incredibly quiet. But when he smiled, oh, she fell in love. He sat on her hip, grinning up at her as she held one of his hands between her thumb and forefinger. Daniel stood behind him, one hand supporting his back, the other resting on the small of hers. Their first family photo. She couldn't leave it._

 _The second came from the back, where an older Henry sat cuddled in her arms, the two of them fast asleep. Daniel had taken the photo after a particularly long day at work. Regina had been reading to him, as she tried to do every night, and he'd fallen asleep a fair few pages in. Ordinarily, she would press a kiss to his forehead, turn off the light and close the door half-way, allowing on the hall light to filter in to his room, just in case he woke up. But that night. That night was different. She'd been exhausted, and in a mood, but her son had always lifted her spirits and she bypassed the late dinner waiting for her on the table in order to climb on to Henry's bed so they could finish the book._

 _That time, when Henry had fallen asleep tucked in to her side, Regina had put aside their book, slid down on the bed, and cuddled him to her chest. Just for a moment. Just to rest her eyes._

 _She'd fallen asleep._

 _Daniel had found the both of them, out for the count. And he'd taken a picture. It was her favourite photo of the two of them. There was a larger copy on display in the hallway downstairs._

 _She tucked both photos in to the front pocket of her pack, and Daniel took the album from her hands. "Lie down." He tells her, and she shakes her head._

 _"I have to finish packing. We can't stay here much longer, I have to — I'm almost done."_

 _He kisses her again. Soft and gentle and sweet, and she wants to cry. "Lie down," he repeats. And she doesn't have the energy to disagree again. So she nods, turns in his arms and revels in the arms that tighten around her for a moment. Her head tips back, her eyes are closed, and she kisses him soundly._

 _Pulling away, she turns her back on him and crawls on to the bed, curling up around their son in almost exactly the same position they'd been in in that photo. Her eyes close, she nuzzles the back of his head with her nose, and she sleeps._

"I'm starting a fire, Robin. It's dark, and I'm cold, and I'm starting a fucking fire. Not all of us have excessive body hair to keep us warm."

Turning away from him, Regina knelt before the makeshift fire she'd been prepping. Robin hesitated for a moment, before she heard him speak. "You don't like the rugged look?" Her head turns slightly, chin coming to rest just before her shoulder, but her eyes turn to him. "— I don't like you."

He grins.

The fire lights. They sit on opposite sides.

Silence.

Again.

At this point, the dead air will drive her crazy. Yes, she preferred it that afternoon. But only because she had been completely thrown by Robin's appearance and his ability to irritate her without saying a single word. To occupy herself, she drew in the dirt with a stick. Without realising it, she'd drawn the Superman symbol, and she'd smiled. Henry had loved all things superhero. And though the Marvel Comic's had been his preferred choice, he still had a box of DC hidden under his bed.

"Princess?"

Startled, Regina looked up sharply and frowned, too tired to be aggravated. So her voice is soft, quiet, hoarse. As she looks down to twist open the cap on her bottle, she muttered. "I told you n—"

"Not to call you that, yes, I remember." With the bottle open, she looks up at him with a single raised brow, lifting the bottle to her lips as he continued. "I was simply wondering as to why?"

Regina blinks.

Oh.

She won't tell him. Regina already knows that she won't tell him. But it makes her think, it makes her remember, and she hesitates. Daniel had called her that throughout high school. At first, she'd hated it. Had glowered at him every time it passed his lips. But then he'd kissed her, and she'd run away, and she hadn't stopped thinking about him. And the next day, she'd walked in to school terrified of what would happen. And he'd come up to her, nudged her shoulder with his own, and called her Princess. Then he'd walked away, heading off to homeroom before she could utter a single response.

He stopped calling her that regularly after they adopted Henry. It was reserved for special occasions, and only rarely.

Shaking her head, Regina steeled her jaw and Robin knew. He wouldn't get an answer tonight. She cleared her throat, shifted slightly, and tossed the stick in her hand aside. "We should take shifts keeping watch… I'll go first. You sleep."

"Regina…"

Standing, Regina pats the dirt and dust off, looking down as she speaks so she won't have to meet his eye. "— I'll wake you in a few hours. I want the extra rest before we move again." He wants to protest. Because she is clearly exhausted, nearly dead on her feet, and there's a very real possibility that she might fall asleep while on watch. But he can tell from the way her hands clench in to fists by her side and the way she tenses at the slightest hint of disagreement. So he just nods, slides down and turns on to his back. His arms move above his head, his hands forming a slight cushion, and his eyes close.

It next to no time at all, Regina's waking him up with, at first, a nudge to his shoulder. When that doesn't rouse him, she presses the flat of her boot on top of his thigh and shakes vigorously. Robin wakes instantly, shooting up with wide eyes, and Regina quickly steps back. When he looks up at her, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, she simply hands over the gun she'd pilfered from his hip, throws a soft, "— your turn," his way before she moves to the opposite side of the no-longer lit fire. The moon is all they need to see, and he watches her as she lies on her side, knees drawn up to her chest. And she's asleep.

When she wakes, it's to the blinding light of the sun. Yawning, Regina attempts to side up and cringes at the ache in her back. Stretching her arms above her head, she moves her torso from left to right, slowly. Blinking rapidly, she glances around the camp and freezes. Eyes dart everywhere, she moves to her knees before struggling to her feet. She sways slightly at the sudden rise, still shaking the effects of a deep sleep. She turns. Thrice.

Robin's gone.

* * *

 _ **Notes**. I finally updated! Months later. Sorry for that, it wasn't intentional. But I'm back now and I will be continuing this. The updates just won't come as fast as I had hoped. I've changed Tumblr's though so if you want to keep updated on the story or prompt me for more pieces, you can find me at allymcbae. I did say that this would be slow burn and, well, it's going to burn real slow. I have a lot planned for this story. Some of you might hate me throughout it's run. I welcome it. _


	3. Chapter Three

_**Notes**. See below._

 _ **Disclaimer**. Definitely not mine._

 _ **Triggers**. Excessive course language, violence, and the usual angry Regina. ( sidebar. also brief political mention in the below A/N )_

* * *

Chapter Three.

* * *

At first, she panics. Because Robin is gone, and she's alone, and she'd been asleep for who the fuck knows how long without him there to watch her back. But he's also gone, and she has no idea where, and there's no note because they don't have paper and when she sits up, hair a tangled mess and squinting at the brightness of the sun, Regina first glances at the ground just to see - nothing. There's nothing hastily scrawled in the dirt, no footprints to tell her which way he went - but as she looks around, she sees empty cans tied with string strewn up low to the ground and surrounding their little camp. Those weren't there earlier, when she had been on watch. And the confusion dims the racing of her heart and the sickness in her stomach - if only for a second.

But then, she's angry.

No.

She's pissed.

And it feels like this will be a regular occurrence. At this rate, she's going to spend the rest of this cursed life in perpetual fury. Because of him. That idiot! Hastily, Regina scrambles to her feet and turns in a circle, pivoting on one foot as she searches between the trees for any indication of where the hell her new "friend" has gone. If she finds him, she's going to wring his fucking neck.

"Robin?" she calls, holding her breath as she strains her ears in hopes of hearing some kind of return call.

Nothing.

Fuck.

Now, she has to decide whether she wants to sit here and do nothing, waiting for his miraculous return - something which, may never happen. He could come back, sure. But he could also die out there and she'd have no idea and she could sit here for days like a god damn moron waiting for his return. Or, she could go look for him - leave the makeshift camp they'd constructed and, apparently, secured. As she looks down at their things, it occurs to her then that his pack is still here, as is his jacket. If he'd deserted her ( which she doubts, considering he'd asked for her help in the first place... kind of ) - but if he had left of his own volition, he'd probably take his crap with him. She would.

So, she can wait. Or, she can leave.

If she leaves, she'd have to carry all of his belongings as well because who knows who's out in these woods. Leaving behind supplies is a definite no-go during the end of the world, and his pack looks heavy. Her nose scrunches in distaste, eyes flickering between his bag and her own, as well as the loose shit they carry in hand or on hip. His leaving has grossly inconvenienced her. Jerk.

With a low growl, Regina slumps down on to the log they'd used as seating, the fire pit she'd made last night now cold. She stares at the pieces of burnt wood and the remains of foliage used as kindling, and she wonders why the hell she'd agreed to this. Why did she allow this stranger to get to her? To somehow convince her that they would be better off together than alone? - she doesn't care to remember that it was her who told him she would help, that it was her who led the way through the wilderness. As far as she's concerned, this is all of his god damn fault.

She has no idea how long she'd sat there, arms crossed above her knees drawn to her chest, chin resting in the crook of her elbow. All she knows is that she's still tired, and she's still hungry, and she's still angry.

 _"You're adorable."_

 _She startles at his words, taken aback by the sudden presence of her boyfriend as he leans in to her open window, crouched outside with his chin in his hands, watching her. Regina's eyes narrow and her hand lowers from her chest, where it had immediately flew to in fright. "Daniel," she scolds, a furrow between her brow as she moves to the window, and she glares at him. "- I'm mad at you."_

 _He grins, and her traitorous heart flutters at the sight, and there are sudden butterflies in her stomach that she wants to squash down. There shouldn't be butterflies in her stomach. There should be dragons. Great, big, mean, scary dragons. That breathe fire. And eat idiot boyfriends. "I know," he says with a casual shrug of his shoulder. "- you're cute when you're angry."_

 _Smiling is not allowed. She is not allowed to smile at him, nor at his antics, nor at his sweet words and teasing tone and bright blue eyes and easy smile and - damn it, she's smiling. When she realises what he's done, she immediately glares at him in irritation, though the fondness remains in her eyes. "I'm not cute." Regina stresses, with as much conviction as she can muster. Because cute is not what she wants to be, not to him._

 _Daniel just smiles, he's always smiling, as he readjusts his position on the roof of their kitchen and she prays to God her mother doesn't see. But he's careful, she knows he is, but her eyes can't stop the brief flicker of concern as they flicker from the boy at her window to the path to her front door. It's late at night, and she can see that the light in the hallway is still on, but there are no shadows of a moving body, and she can only hope her mother has already turned in for the night. "You're going to get me in trouble," she whispers, but he ignores her plight in favour of her previous declaration. "You are cute," he stresses, and she turns her glare on him full force. "- you're cute, and beautiful, and forgiving..." his smile wavers then, a little insecurity shining in his eyes as he holds out a single flower picked from her mother's garden. "I'm sorry I forgot," and he sounds so sincere, and so worried, that she can't help but sigh and roll her eyes and lean forward out the window to press a sweet kiss to the corner of his lips._

 _"Shut up."_

 _He'll make it up to her, she's sure. Forgetting their first official date would ordinarily be thrown on the immediate 'Unforgivable' list of things boyfriends will never get away with, but she has a soft spot for him, and she'll just make him pay later. For now, she rests her hand on his own and links their fingers, before stepping back and tugging - permission to enter granted..._

It's the cans that alert her. A loud jingling breaking her from her reverie and her eyes drift up from the remnants of their fire, gaze settling on that of a man who looks recently turned. Still somewhat resembling an actual human being, the only indication he's dead is the stench that he emits and the dumbstruck expression that drools "i want to eat your insides" - great.

Regina watches as the cans trip him up, and he falls to the ground with a painful thud, and she actually winces in sympathy. Falling on ones face hurts like hell, and he might not be able to feel it but Regina had to watch it, and it did not look pleasant. "Idiot," she mutters, watching as he crawls his way slowly towards her. Closer and closer and closer - and she should move, she really should kill the bastard, put him out of his subconscious misery. But instead she watches him slowly drag himself towards her, inch by inch. There's a name on the tattered remains of his jumpsuit, and if she squints her eyes and tilts her head just so, she can make out the red and white stitched tag of a mechanic. Billy, apparently. Poor Billy.

Slowly, Regina stands, hand falling to her hip where she'd placed her knife. Removing it slowly, Regina continues to watch in morbid fascination as Billy's teeth chomp at air and the skin of his stomach starts to peal away on the sticks and stones beneath him. With a sigh, Regina moves forward and presses her foot down on his back, right between his shoulders on top of his spine. His head swings continuously to the left, trying in vain to grab a nice mouthful of her ankle, and but he falls silent as she bends her knees and drives the knife in to the back of his head. Still red blood pours from the wound and covers her hand and she grimaces, swears, and presses against his skull with her free hand until her knife pops free, and she can step back. "Thanks," she mutters at the now dead dead Billy, wiping her hand on her trousers and grimacing at the already dry stiff feel of them.

Another jingle, and Regina looks up and across the camp to the other side, where a woman with half her face and a missing left arm somehow manages to step over the security alarm Robin had apparently built during his watch. At least now she knows why they're up. It's not a stupid idea, quite brilliant actually - but she's still mad at him, regardless of how 'safe' she may have been. With a reluctant exhale of breath, Regina steps over Billy's body and moves towards her new guest, flipping the knife over in her hand as she does so, it's not until Regina nears her that she falls to the floor with an arrow sticking clear through her eye. Regina stands still, eyes wide as the dead woman groans and chokes but falls silent upon the arrow's removal. Regina's eyes rise, and they settle on Robin standing proudly with a rabbit thrown over his shoulder and a grin on his face.

"Good morning," he quips merrily.

She fucking hates him.

Without a word, Regina turns her back on him and moves to the spot she'd slept in, picking up her pack and throwing it over her shoulder before she picks up her jacket, and his, and she glares at him as she passes. "This is mine now," she declares with a hint of frustration in her tone, and she walks away. Behind her, she can hear absolute silence before a sudden scrambling in the dirt. She's slow to walk away, doesn't make it very far before he catches up to her, shoving the cans and string in to his pack at the very bottom, the rabbit now hanging from his hip.

"What the hell?" Robin asks, falling in to step beside her. She's wearing her own jacket, because it's a little cooler today despite the sun shining particularly bright, and she doesn't want to burn. His jacket she's tied to one of the straps of her back, keen on commandeering his supplies as her own every time he annoys her. It's a new rule, something she's decided has come in to effect as of now - he'll figure that rule out quickly.

"I hate you," Regina hisses in return, before storming off ahead of him.

How dare he leave her alone whilst sleeping, without so much as a word to her about where he went - though the kill he prides himself on carrying is of some indication... that's not the point. He should have woken her up, let her know that he was leaving. Because she could have fucking died if she were a heavy sleeper, and he's only so lucky that she's not. The cans would have woken her, yes. But she would have been half-asleep and disorientated and if he had gotten her killed because he didn't think to wake her up before going off in to the woods on his own, she would have haunted him for so fucking long. Or eaten him, depending on if she turned.

Gross.

"I caught a rabbit," he says cheerfully, holding the damn thing up by it's ears and she looks at it from the corner of her eyes with absolute disgust before they roll, and a bitter "- congratulations," comes swiftly from her lips. His grin falters some, she can see it despite still stalking ahead, pushing branches out of her way, but then she stops suddenly when he asks her what's wrong.

What's wrong?

Seriously?

Turning on her heel, Regina quickly closed the distance between them and reached out to push at his chest with her the flat of her palm. "You fucking left me alone, Robin! And not just alone, but a-fucking-sleep!" Her anger shines clearly in both the tone of voice she adopts and the look in her eyes and he stares at her slack-jawed as if she would've been fine. "- I could have died, but that's fine, because you caught a fucking rabbit."

"I thought you were hungry," he defends, but she can see a touch of guilt in the way he looks at her, as if he's just figured out that she's actually scared shitless of this new world and maybe she is, maybe she's fucking terrified - but it's so much easier to survive if it looks like none of this shit-hit-fan crap worries her. Despite her firm, "I was!" - he continues out. "I wasn't far, I would've heard the cans..."

"Oh, because that makes me feel so much better," she bites back with a glare, and he looks like he might actually apologise, but Regina doesn't want to hear it, so she simply turns back around and continues on her warpath, an "- idiot" thrown over her shoulder as he watches her go with a grimace and a rabbit. Maybe he shouldn't have left her alone, he knows that. But she'd been exhausted last night and she'd looked like she hadn't eaten in days and the cans had always worked for him on his own, he didn't think she'd be away before mid-day. He thought he could get away with a few hours hunting - and he hadn't lied, he hadn't been too far away. Far enough that he'd find some game, hopefully, but not far enough not to hear the alarm he'd constructed around his new... companion.

She's something else, he thinks, as he slowly catches up to her but keeps a relatively safe distance. So angry and crass and she didn't look like someone who behaved as she does - swearing every five minutes and in a constant state of anger. But then, the virus changed them all. Some quite literally, others - metaphorically. He was different, he knew that. Oh, he'd always been suave, charming in a way - with a kindness unlike many in their day and age, or so he liked to think. But he'd been quieter before, less brash and forthcoming - his divorce and shared custody had taken it's toll on him and he had seriously considered moving back to England, if only to regroup. He would have come back, of course. His son was his everything and there was no way in hell he'd leave Roland with Marian permanently.

But now...

"I'm sorry," he offers after they've walked in relative silence for a good half hour. He watches as she stiffens her back and tightens her grasp on the straps of her bag. "Whatever," comes muffled from ahead of him and he jogs a step or two to come to her side. "I am, truly." Robin tries again, because she'd offered to help him find his son and she didn't have to do that, especially after he'd been a right ass. He reaches out to rest his hand on her shoulder, some kind of sign of comfort or reassurance, he's not sure. But while they don't necessarily get along, more so on her end than on his, he doesn't want her to be angry with him forever. But as soon as his hand falls, as soon as she feels his touch, she tenses and immediately shakes him off, before reaching out to grasp at his shirt with her fingers. It halts him as he walks and she pulls at his shirt and she is stronger than he'd thought originally, and he is forced to turn towards her. She has to look up at him slightly, their difference in height now abundantly clear, and he blinks at the fire in her eyes that only just masks the fear.

"Don't touch me, Locksley. We are not friends, we're not even acquaintances. I don't care about your apologies, they don't mean shit to me. I'll help you find your son, but that's it. No in-depth conversations about what our lives used to be like, no get-to-know-you bonding bullshit you tried to pull yesterday - just don't get me killed, and I won't hate you too much. Got it?"

He thought she'd be the kind who didn't wait for confirmation. Robin thought that Regina was the kind of woman who knew what she wanted, demanded it, and then walked away. No room to argue, no change to disagree. But she still has a firm grip of his shirt and she is staring in to his eyes like she can see in to his soul and, without a word, he nods. If that's what she wants, far be it from him to deny her her peace and her quiet and her life.

Satisfied with his compliance, Regina nods before she releases her hold on his person and steps back, hands now clasped in front of her and fiddling together as if they don't know where to be or what to do. They stand there in silence, staring at each other before Robin clears his throat and nods towards the path she'd apparently chosen, and they resume their trek. They, of course, have no idea where they're going. Last Robin knew, Roland had been with his mother in Pasadena - on the other side of the country.

They have a very long way to go, a hell of a lot of distance to cover, and they're on foot. Maybe they should move to the main road, try and find a car with gas that can get them at least a little bit closer, even if it's just by a few miles. His mouth opens to voice his suggestion but an icy glare dissuades him and he thinks, maybe tomorrow.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Seven months. That's consistent with my previous updates actually. Six between the first and second. Seven between the second and third. I wonder how long it will take to get my fourth chapter out. Oh well - to my American readers, from an Australian friend, #imwithyou - because apparently #imwithher wasn't enough. Sorry this one was a bit shorter compared to the other two. I haven't had much muse to write fanfic lately but I really felt like writing something today and this is what I came up with. _


	4. Chapter Four

_**Notes**. See below._

 _ **Disclaimer**. Not mine._

 _ **Triggers**. Violence, excessive language, character death, suicidal thoughts, blood, gore._

* * *

 **Chapter Four.**

* * *

It's unbearable. The silence. Too quiet, too still - they're moving at a steady pace, enough to cover a fair few miles before the sun rises completely, and they're stuck with a sweltering heat. He's grateful, he is. It's nice to know there are still people out there. Living, breathing, not trying to eat him people. She's the first he'd seen since he was separated from his group, a motley crew of survivors he'd stumbled across within days of the outbreak. But that had been weeks ago, and he'd almost cried when he'd seen her through the trees yesterday.

But, Robin Locksley is a people person. He likes to talk, to get to know the people he's spending his life with and, at this rate, it looks like they're stuck together. And Regina hasn't said a word since she'd yelled at him that morning. It's stifling.

He makes noises. Little sounds that she seems to be ignoring - he sighs, he hums, he whistles at the trees. Occasionally, he'll hear a bird, and he'll stop to try and find it. But each and every time, he'll look back to her, and he'll see Regina's back. She just keeps walking. It's like she's incapable of stopping. Once she starts, there is nothing that will deter her, nothing will get in her way. It makes him wonder what her story is - how did she come to be out here alone? Is she looking for someone too? Who _is_ she?

"Stop it."

It almost startles him. The sound of her voice, low and rough with a distinct sound of aggravation. "Stop what?"

" _That_." She clarifies, stressing the word without so much as a backwards glance. Robin hums again, a small smile threatening to break across his lips. Not that he's necessarily pleased that he had irritated her, but at least she's spoken. "Define ' _that_ '," his eyes drop to her hands as they curl in to fists by her side. Christ, she's easy to rile. He probably should not be as amused as he is.

She hesitates on her next step, her head moving slightly aside and he thinks, for a brief moment, that she might actually look at him for the first time since she grabbed him by the shirt that morning. But she doesn't. She collects herself, breath slow and even as she dismisses the urge to push him down the fucking hill. It's been less than twenty-four hours and she already regrets leaving the shed. She could have lived the rest of her pathetic life in that tin prison, it would've been far less trying.

"You're an ass, you know that?"

Regina's patience has already worn incredibly thin and he can't seem to stop himself from poking holes, whether it's a conscious decision of his to be as abhorrent as physically possible, or he's just naturally like that - and she's not one hundred percent sure what would be worse.

He grins at her back as she continues her steady pace, pushing hanging branches out of her way with a sharp flick of her wrist. She steps passed so quickly, it's almost as if she's intentionally positioning him so he receives that backlash of each branch. It's fine. Robin can handle a few leaves in his hair. "I did not know that, actually. Thank you for advising me of such a trait, I shall update my resume as soon as I find a working computer."

Finally, she looks at him. Her head turns so she can glance at him from the corner of her eye and it's not nearly a glare so effective as when they are face to face but it is chilling none the less. Then, her eyes roll, and once again, silence.

Well, a minute and a half's worth of interaction was something, at least.

They walked for another hour, her a few steps in front of him and he, watching her. It gives him time to look at her in daylight. He'd watched her sleep last night. As creepy as it sounded, there wasn't a whole lot else for him to do. She looked exhausted. Not just from lack of sleep, not just physically tired. Regina carried herself as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and she just did not want to carry it anymore. He understood that. Life now was shit and every living person he'd stumbled across all had that look in their eyes. But Regina...

Why does he care?

He doesn't. Not really. Robin can't afford to care about other people anymore. He used too. He would be the first to raise his hand when asked for help, but things like kindness and human decency - they didn't exist anymore. People were selfish, and they'd sooner toss you to a horde in exchange for a can of expired soup. Robin learned at the start that caring about people either risked their lives or your own. His group, the group he'd been with before stumbling across Regina - they'd been good people. The first good people he'd met since leaving the city. But he'd lost them in a crowd of the undead and anyone he'd come across after were... they weren't good people. So he ignored them. Walked right passed when they shouted for help, shook off a man that tried to drag him back. Robin had to find his son and he didn't want to risk dying before he could, just because he'd held out a helping hand.

So why did he stop for her?

She's beautiful. He's not blind, fuck. But she's cold and cruel and apparently, she absolutely hates him. But he doesn't regret saving her life, or following her after. He might later, when the novelty of another human being to coexist with wears off and he realises that she's probably more work than he anticipated - stubborn, as she is. Still, she offered to help find Roland and who is he to say no?

Robin swears under breath when she stops abruptly, and he almost topples them both over running in to her back. "What-?" She cuts his exclamation off with a look, the look, and he frowns in confusion as he immediately obeys her silent ' _shut the fuck up_ ' with no idea as to why. Regina turns sideways, staring at him with narrowed eyes, daring him to speak, and he simply cocks his head. "Dumbass," she mutters, before reaching up and pressing two fingers against his jaw. The touch is so startling, as she has only ever handled him with stinging slaps or hard shoves, and this is soft and slow and he wants to shake her because what the actual hell are her moods, but she's turning his head and his eyes are slow to follow, still looking at her with the most confused look.

His heart stops for a beat as he watches movement in the trees. It's not unusual, and he wouldn't normally freeze as he has, but the figure is small, and his eyes close slowly in mourning. He hasn't seen many children that wander with clouded eyes and blood-stained teeth, but each one breaks his heart. When he opens his eyes, they follow the slow path the little girl stumbles and he is filled with unexpected relief that sickens him. But if it had been a boy... Roland...

"We should help her." Regina's voice is quiet beside him and he turns to look at her, jaw taut and lips thin as he tries not to throw up. She is staring, and there is something about the way she watches the child that stirs something in his stomach, and he can only nod. His hand falls to his hip, where his blade is kept, but once it is removed and held in his palm, he simply stands. He can't move, can't go to her and ease the pain he doesn't know if she can feel.

Robin watches as Regina moves instead, feet cracking sticks with each step and the dead girl turns, blonde hair ratted and caked with blood and mud and wet - absentmindly, Robin thinks there might be water nearby which is good, since his bottle is running on empty. Blinking away the stray thought, he sees Regina's back and he hears a screeching groan before they are plunged in to silence again, and the girl slumps to the woodland floor.

It is done with such an ease that Robin almost retches as Regina walks back to him, wiping her knife off on her jean-clad thigh. He feels angry, all of a sudden. She has been a bitch since yesterday and it hadn't bothered him until now but he just does not understand how she could kill a child _( albeit an already dead one )_ so easily and feel nothing.

What the fuck?

She can feel his eyes on her as they approach a road. It's nearly mid-day, as far as she can tell, and her stomach would growl if it were capable but she is that kind of hungry where there's nothing left but an ache. He hasn't spoken since the girl. He hasn't hummed or sung or sighed or, he hasn't anything. Regina stops when they reach the open, one hand holding on to the strap of her bag with a tight grip and the other loosely wrapped around her waist as she looks left, then right, and she exhales heavily. There is a barrier that prevents them from walking directly on to gravel and she's thinking about whether to climb over it or choose a direction when Robin bypasses her completely, swinging his own pack off his shoulder and tossing it on to the road before he climbs over with ease. He picks his bag back up, looks one way then the other, before ultimately choosing left.

Regina glares after him, hoisting her own pack up and over before following suit and he's British, for fucks sake. Isn't he supposed to be a fucking gentlemen? Not that she needs him or anything like that. She is perfectly capable of handling things herself but still.

She won't ask him what crawled up his ass, because she is too god damn stubborn for that bullshit. But she does shoot him confused looks, a glare, and a scowl. She's not a god damn mind reader.

 _"You're doing that thing again." His voice calls out to her from the other end of the aisle, and she glares at him from the cereal section as heads turn. He walks towards her, hands in his pockets and she resists the urge to tug them out because god, that is annoying. "What thing?" She mutters offhandedly, attempting to appear as indifferent as possible. She knows what he's talking about, of course she knows. But he can be just so smug sometimes, she won't give him the satisfaction._

 _"That thing where I'm in trouble for something but I don't know what that something is and you won't tell me," He reaches up, to the very top shelf, and pulls down the fruit loops she says she hates but ends up eating at two o'clock in the morning when she has cramps. "- so I have to guess and every time I get it wrong, you get more mad at me and I get more confused and we end up having angry, confused sex until you forget what I did or did not do."_

 _Ashley, who stands just a little ways down the aisle, snorts as she pretends to not eavesdrop, stacking tinned peaches on the shelf in front of her. Regina glares at her half-heartedly, turning her head and leaning back slightly when she finds Daniel leaning down towards her, smiling. "Now, I'm happy for that part. I like that part. But the prequel, the part we're in now - can we skip it? I can't read minds, Regina."_

 _She should tell him. Because it's not that he did anything, except he very much did do something - or, she thinks he did something and she doesn't know how to tell him he may have done something - but she's been off work sick, and she has had the strangest appetite and everything he does either makes her angry or makes her cry and she really, really should tell him._

 _"I don't forget," she grouses instead, grasping the fruit loops tight enough to slightly bend the box. Tossing it in to the trolley, she walks off leaving Daniel to stand exasperated. He looks at Ashley, and she hears him ask her if it's a full moon tonight, and Regina worries her lower lip between her teeth as she reaches down and pushes aside the bread and the pasta and the toothpaste. A pregnancy test box sits at the very bottom, hidden by the household essentials, and she thinks - 'he'll see at checkout' - because that will absolutely explain everything to him without her having to actually explain herself._

There's a gas station a few miles down the road, and it doesn't take long to off the one cashier who made an excellent attempt at gnawing off his face when they walked through the door. The stock is limited. It's been a fair few months now since the world went to shit and they most definitely are not the first to scavenge what they can from this place. She walks the aisles anyway, hand trailing along rows of camera film and keychains and steering wheel covers. Robin stands at the door watching her, having already looked through the back room and found only a half pack of Advil. His arms are crossed over his chest and he is still reeling from the girl that he can't even really think clearly, so when she picks up a ripped magazine from the ground and casually peruses the pages still legible, he snaps.

"How do you do that?" His question is deadpan, a hint of disbelief and disgust in his tone of voice and she looks up at him under her lashes, blinking as if the sound of his voice is unrecogniseable, and she shrugs. "I haven't read anything but road signs since November," he's surprised she answered him without irritation in her voice but now he's the one that can't to look at her so maybe it's there, he just doesn't hear it.

"How do you kill a child, and not feel anything about it?"

Robin watches as she stiffens, her perusal paused as she looks up at him sharply, the magazine resting precariously on the palm of her hand. "What?"

He almost flinches at the way her voice deepens, a coldness unlike the kind he'd felt from her before drifting between them, but he has finally mustered the courage and strength to ask her how she could be so blasé about what she did, when he still feels sick and he had only watched...

"You killed her. You walked up to her, a kid, and you just stuck your knife in and walked away."

They stare at each other, and there is something in her eyes that makes his stance soften, if only a little. Robin watches as Regina swallows, and he thinks maybe he was wrong, maybe she did feel something and she was just really good at pretending she didn't. But then there's steel in her eyes, replacing the whirlwind of emotions he thought he saw. She flips the magazine shut, carefully places it on the stand it probably came from, before she pushes past him with a callous "she was already dead" thrown in his face.

Robin watches as she tosses her bag in to the corner of the room, turning her back on the wall and sliding down with one leg outstretched in front of her, and she starts to rifle through her things, looking for something to eat.

And he thinks, now, he might regret saving her.

* * *

 _ **A/N** : Six months. Well, at least I'm consistent. On the updating timeframe side. On the chapter length, not so much. Oh well, I'm sure you'll forgive me. A bit more insight in to Robin's brain this chapter, hope you liked that. If not, too bad 'cause that's what I wrote and I don't feel like changing it. Sorry for any mistakes. I do not have a Beta to pre-read these before I post them ( I think anyone who tried would get frustrated with how long it takes me to update so me not having one is probably a good thing ) and I also wrote most of this on my iPad while sick, so, yeah. _

_I'm to write more frequently but as I gave up on the show like, three seasons ago, motivation is scarce. But you could help get my muse back by prompting things you might want to see happen or even one-shots you'd like me to write. Either or would be much appreciated._

 _Thank you guys for reading this random idea I had one day and continuing to do so despite the wait for new chapters. Xo._


End file.
